Pollen... insidious... vile. 7.8 on the index. Horrid.
When I was a child, I had no allergies whatsoever. Apparently as you age, maladies that you thought yourself free of will seek you out and pollute you. Just becuase now you're older and weaker. And they can.
This in addition to my right knee starting to revolt against my will a little more everyday, and the realization that, in the recent and steady weight loss/toning up/feeling good about my looks-ness that's gone on slowly over the past year, the flab seems to all have drifted to my thighs.
My huge, weighty, dimply, flabby thighs.
If I had the money for lipo... I'd do it.
Becuase I'm american, dammit... and the effortless quick fix is infinitely appealing.
I told my dad last night that I'm moving. He reacted like I was asking for permission, telling me his reservations. I was being kind to him in the first place (more kind than he deserves) by telling him AT ALL what my plans are. It's still odd to me that he thinks he can randomly play 'Dad' at me and that's somehow enough for me to respect or even like him.
I know he's screwed up. But sometimes it's amazing just *how* screwed up.
The other day I had someone say to me, "how can you NOT like Greenwood's "I'm Proud To Be An American"?!," and I knew that my time here must end soon or I'll maim someone.
I'll fucking maim them.
8 more work days. Then seetheKarlandFloridaandVegasandThebabyki